


Miles and Miles

by lancesexual (Badgers)



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Bodyswap, Gender Dysphoria, Getting Together, I'll add tags as the chapters go up!, M/M, Panic Attacks, Trans Lance (Voltron), Trans Male Character
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-28
Updated: 2018-07-10
Packaged: 2018-08-27 16:21:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8408458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Badgers/pseuds/lancesexual
Summary: "How did this happen?" Keith whispered, voice hoarse from yelling. His blue eyes shut tightly as he tried to control his breathing. In the corner of his eye, he saw Lance impatiently shove a handful of long black hair out of his face. ---Lance and Keith swap bodies.





	1. Get Used To It

**Author's Note:**

> beta'd by the lovely lionbots. this bitch doesn't know how to insert links what's up.
> 
> So here's this! I don't know where it's going except to pound town - stops along the way will be spur of the moment and probably not very thought out. I just wanted a bod swap that catered to me and my unreasonable standards,,, whether or not i execute it well,,, is still to be seen,,,
> 
> Enjoy :3c

The entire room stared - with varying expressions of alarm and confusion - at the two angry boys sitting next to each other. Side by side, it was easy to tell who was who, even if their faces didn't exactly bely it at that moment. Their postures, the energy around them, made it clear that the dark hand clenched on the surface of the dining table could only belong to Keith.

"How did this happen?" Keith whispered, voice hoarse from yelling. His blue eyes shut tightly as he tried to control his breathing. In the corner of his eye, he saw Lance impatiently shove a handful of long black hair out of his face. His hands were shaking.

"We don't know," Shiro said, sounding as lost as Keith felt, "We - Allura thinks it might've been because of the ion storm. The cryopods went offline-"

"What kind of fancy alien technology can't handle a power outage?" Lance demanded. Keith looked from Shiro, to the boy next to him, and Lance looked terrified. Keith empathized more with him in that moment than he ever had, because Keith was also terrified. He looked down at his own hands, dark, with long fingers. Hardly any calluses.

"Our technology is over a thousand years old. It stands to reason that it isn't quite up to standard anymore," Allura snapped.

"Then you shouldn't have put us in there! Not if it wasn't safe!"

"We had no reason to think-"

"You had reason, you just didn't care!" Lance shouted, shoving himself to his feet, his chair knocking back from underneath him and slamming against the floor with a heavy clatter. Keith couldn't help but flinch away from it. He drew his hands off of the table and buried them in his lap, too busy trying to stow his building panic attack to join in on Lance's fury.

"Lance," Shiro snapped, stepping slighty in front of Allura, "I understand the situation is scary, but throwing a fit isn't going to help anyone."

Keith agreed, even though part of him knew that the second he could breathe properly, he'd be just as angry. He'd be screaming just as much. Lance looked like he wanted to keep going, to really get up in Shiro's face, but Hunk stepped up to him before anything else could be said and layed a large, heavy hand on Lance's shoulder. It was like magic. All of the fight drained out of him with the heavy breath that left his lungs. He dropped his head, closing his own eyes and letting his black bangs fall back into his face.

The room was tense, but it no longer felt like a band about to snap.

"Luckily, the cryopods weren't damaged during the storm, only shorted out. Coran, Allura, and Hunk are gonna look them over, try to figure out what went wrong, how all this-" Shiro gestured uneasily between Lance and Keith, the former of whom had finally taken his seat again, grounded by his best friend's hand still resting like an anchor on his arm, "-happened. I'm sure we'll have it fixed soon enough. Until then, there's nothing we can really do except carry on like normal."

Keith snorted, the gesture a little hysterical. He ducked his hand down to rest against the table top and shoved his fingers through his short, brown hair, grabbing a fistful and pulling. Directly in his line of sight were long legs, they seemed to go on for miles, wrapped in light denim that stretched over thighs he didn't realize were so-

"What the fuck are you doing to my hair?"

Keith jerked up, right before calloused hands caught his wrists and yanked them down, away from his aching scalp. Lance was glaring at him, with a pale face and grey eyes and thick black eyebrows that pulled down to wrinkle on the bridge of his nose - he looked furious, far too furious for Keith only having pulled his hair.

"Sorry-" Keith nearly choked.

"Don't pull my hair. In fact, don't touch any part of my body," Lance snapped.

Keith reeled back, "Why are you so angry? This wasn't my fault!"

"It doesn't matter! I still don't want your greasy mitts all over me!"

"Well, then - you aren't allowed to touch me either!"

"That's enough!" Shiro said. His hand hit the table hard, and both boys snapped their mouths shut, turning toward him in an instant. He continued.

"You two aren't going to act like this the entire time you're in each other's bodies. If not for your own sakes, then for ours. You're going to have to learn to deal with it until we get it fixed."

"You can't expect me to just be okay with this!" Lance growled. Keith watched the way his body - Keith's body - reacted, his shoulders drawing up and his arms tensing and flexing, the skin on his hands turning nearly white as they clenched into fists. He didn't like the way it looked.

"That's exactly what I expect you to be," Shiro said.

Lance glared at their leader for a few more seconds, seconds that were packed with anger and panic that Keith felt as strongly as Lance did, before Lance was once again out of his chair and stomping off toward the door. Keith narrowed his eyes at how dumb he made his body look when he walked.

 

* * *

 

 

Lance was holed up in his room for the rest of the day, not coming out even when Hunk had gone to get him for lunch. Keith was trying to ignore how angry that made him, wondering if that was even the real reason he was so angry. His ribs ached, his joints were sore, and he couldn't seem to keep focus on anything. He had tried to train, but Lance's body was long and muscled in a way he wasn't used to, and every move he made had felt off. He'd also kept losing his breath. His lungs were burning and gasping for air twenty minutes into the session, until he'd breathlessly ordered an end to the program and collapsed in the middle of the floor.

He stayed there for a while, in the middle of the training room floor, and let his mind wander.

Lance's body wasn't uncomfortable - in fact, it felt as natural to Keith as his own had. It wasn't yet used to his mannerisms, but it was quickly adapting, so quickly that there may as well hadn't been a change at all. For all Keith thought, it could be just another normal day, laying on the floor after having exhausted himseld training. It could have, if not for the brown hands gripping his bayard, and the weightlessness of having so little hair.

He glanced back down at said bayard, sitting inocuously in his grip, having transformed back into its idle form. Earlier, when he had first willed it to change, there had been a few seconds of delay, a few seconds where Keith had felt nothing but raw panic, but then, as dutifully as ever, it had changed into its sword form, and Keith had brushed off the hesitation.

He stared at it now, relief and exhaustion settling in his aching chest. The bayard still recognized him as Keith, which meant Red did as well. He'd been worried earlier that the lions would be too confused, and they wouldn't be able to pilot them.

"What are you doing?"

Keith raised his head just as Pidge sat down next to him, for once dressed down to her tank top, with her long sleeved shirt tied around her waist and smudged with oil. She offered him a curious smile.

"Trying to figure out how to defend the universe with a Blue Paladin who can't even train for ten minutes without having a heart attack," He said, in lieu of a real answer.

"Ouch," She laughed, "That bad?"

"I can't breathe," He complained as he sat up, following his teammate's example and shedding Lance's hoodie, letting it fall onto the ground behind him. He rolled the sleeves on his t-shirt up mindlessly, "Every time I move, I lose my breath. I don't know how he's kept up this long."

For a moment, Pidge looked like she wanted to say something, but after a few seconds of apparent contemplation, she just shrugged, pulling a face at Keith like 'What can you do?'

"Maybe try doing something besides training, then. I don't see him in here busting his ass to keep you in shape, so why should you?"

"It's different," Keith said. He rubbed at his chest again, frowning, "Lance is... handling this badly. I don't think I've ever seen him that mad."

Pidge hummed, possibly in agreement, but Keith never knew with her. She didn't say anything right away, so Keith stood up from the floor and stretched, groaning in relief,when the pain then his ribs protested the movement. His breathing hitched and he straightened immediately, hand clutching his side. Pidge tutted at him.

"I think you should go see Lance about that. He can probably help."

Keith gave her a disbelieving look, but she just picked herself up and shrugged, bending down to grab Lance's jacket, and then shoving it into his hands.

"You two can't just avoid each other the entire time you're... each other. Maybe if it were anyone else, but not this time."

Her tone of voice had Keith frowning and asking, "What do you mean, if it were anyone else?"

"Like if it were you and Hunk. Or me and Lance."

She said it like it was something obvious, but Keith still didn't understand. He assumed it was because him and Hunk got along leagues better than him and Lance did, but Pidge and Lance hadn't gotten along at all until they'd bonded over -

Keith blinked. Then blinked again. His hand flattened against his chest and moved down, until he felt the edges of what was a little like a vest. A lightbulb went off in his head, and as though she could see it, Pidge gave him a look of approval.

"Go see Lance," She said.

 

* * *

 

"For the last time, Hunk, I don't wanna talk," came Lance's - well, Keith's voice from the other side of Lance's door, muffled and irritated. Keith knocked again.

"It's not Hunk."

There was a pause, then Lance's voice came again, louder and even more irritated, "That's not better, Keith."

"Lance, come on. Can you just - stop being a baby for two seconds and let me in?"

Lance didn't answer. In fact, it was quiet on the other side of the door just long enough that Keith figured Lance had gone so far as to ignore him, and was poised to knock a third time when he heard the scanner on the other side, and the door whooshed open. A familiar face appeared, with dark bags under its eyes, and a scowl in place.

"I'm not being a baby," He spat petulantely. Keith just rolled his eyes and shoved past him, ignoring the indignant shout in favour of taking in the room.

It was a lot neater than he'd expected it to be, but now that he thought about it, it was exactly like he would expect, if he knew Lance. There were no clothes on the floor, nothing carelessly strewn about or left to step on or trip over, but every available counter space was cluttered with treasures and suivenires from their travels, ranging from rocks, to gadgets, to flowers in haphazard containers of water. He trailed his finger over the petals of one, eyes widening when it flinched away and curled up, like it was shy. He went to touch it again, but before he could, Lance snatched it out of his reach, frowning.

"Don't touch my things."

It was Keith's turn to scowl, "What's your problem?"

"My problem? I would think it was obvious!"

"With me, Lance!" Keith snapped, his hands going straight to his hips as he stared Lance down, "What's your problem with me? I didn't even do anything, and you're acting like - like you did when we first met!"

Lance went red, cradling his flower to his chest (and the little thing pressed back, like it was cuddling him, like it liked him). He looked down at Keith's hands and then back up at Keith, a helpless, aimless gesture appearing from his hands. "Could you maybe not stand like that?"

"Like what?"

"Like - I don't know. Like my mom?"

Pointedly, Keith straightened his back, attempting to emphasize the pose, but his ribs gave another groan and he deflated in an instant, hand shooting up to his side. Lance caught the movement immediately, and suddenly the hostility disappeared in favour of worry.

"What is it?"

"Nothing," Keith mumbled. He cleared his throat, "It's your.... binder. I've been training, so-"

"You were training in it?" Lance demanded. He looked downright concerned now, moving a little closer and setting the flower down, the petals chasing his retreating hands, "Keith, what the heck! Why?"

"I - I didn't think! I mean, I forgot it was there, until Pidge said something."

"Take it off! Right now, take it off! It should've been off hours ago!"

Keith leaned back, away from Lance's crazed eyes and grabby hands, holding his arms in front of his chest as though protecting his virtue. "What th- No! I'm not taking anything off!"

"Keith!" Lance said impatiently, "It's my body, I've seen it all before. Now you're the one being the baby!"

"It doesn't matter if it's your body, I'm the one who's gonna be naked!"

"Oh, for the love of-" Lance cut himself off, throwing his hands up and looking skyward to ask the Lord for patience and strength to deal with Keith's bull. He sighed, and closed his eyes, Keith's arms still crossed protectively over his chest. "Keith. Take off the binder. If you wear it too long, it could really hurt me."

"Then why wear it in the first place?" Keith huffed.

Lance just looked at him. Suddenly his eyes were so tired, like Keith thought they'd look when Keith was the one behind them, so exhausted and sad. Keith instantly regretted asking that question, seeing how Lance reacted to it, like he'd had to answer it a thousand times before, and couldn't bare to answer it again.

"Nevermind," Keith said softly.

Lance looked at him more, until Keith was squirming in place, his cheeks flooding with blood. He knew it wasn't his body, but it was still nerve wracking, being asked to undress in front of someone else. Normally he wasn't shy at all about his body, he and Shiro and Hunk would peel off their shirts during training and barely spare a glance at one another, while Pidge and Lance complained about the sweat. This, though. He couldn't explain his hesitation without sounding like an idiot, so he took a deep breath and shook off Lance's jacket, tossing it lightly onto Lance's bed. He looked resolutely at the floor as he tugged his shirt up over his head, leaving him in a simple black binder.

He spared a long, curious look, never having seen it before. Lance was usually alright with changing in front of Hunk, or Allura, but never in this life time would he have changed in front of Keith, if there was a real choice. Keith would never see this, or what was underneath, in normal circumstances.

He raised an arm to look for a way to undo it, and then Lance's hands appeared. Lance quickly and efficiently found the clasps and unfasted them. Keith gasped at the relief of just having them undone, how much pressure it took off his chest, and then raised his arms when Lance helped pull it off completely.

Without thinking, he looked down, startled by how wonderful cool air felt on his skin, and he froze.

Something short circuited in his brain at the sight of actual breasts. Breasts he, somehow, hadn't expected to see. Logically, obviously, he knew they were there, because Lance wore a binder and talked about how sore they were sometimes, but his brain hadn't put two and two together. His hands twitched, and then he lifted one, planning to grab his chest and make sure what he was seeing was real.

"Keith!"

Lance's face was blazing red, embarrassed and offended and ashamed. Keith snatched his hand back as his own face went beet red.

Neither of them spoke as Lance shot across the room to dig for a sports bra. Keith was still reeling. Seeing - well, the whole thing, it reminded him of yet another something that was probably different between them. He pressed his thighs together, somehow only just then noticing that it was different. His breath started coming a little fast. Lance said something, but Keith didn't hear. His focus was between his legs, between Lance's legs, empty and blank. He clenched, and muscles he'd never had before responded to him, and Keith yelped.

Oh, God. Lance was - Lance was a boy. Lance had been a boy all his life, but he - he didn't have parts Keith was used to, parts Keith had ever associated with himself or let himself imagine. He looked down again, and the breasts were still there. A queasiness erupted in his stomach.

Lance's hand landed on his arm, so softly that it almost couldn't have been Lance. Keith's head snapped up. Lance's face was carefully blank.

"I know it's different, I'm sorry. You're... used to a boy body, and this one can be pretty shocking."

"It's - This is still a boy body," Keith said, "Just... a different kind. One I'm not used to."

Lance didn't say anything to that. He looked at Keith a moment longer, then held out the sports bra and shirt he'd brought over. Keith took them gratefully.

"Hopefully, you won't have to get used it."

 

* * *

 

Keith could not. Get used to it, that is. Lance had gone ahead and given him permission to not wear the binder for the rest of the time they were stuck like this, but with its absence came the uncomfortable awareness of his chest, of his arms brushing against it if he moved a certain way, of over estimating the space between him and other things or people and constantly bumping against things. His face would go red every time, and if Lance was there, he would subconsciously seek out his gaze, and find that they were both a little embarrassed about the situation.

The others were polite about it. Keith didn't expect anything less, really. Of course, Shiro had had a moment of wide eyes and curious glances, but he hadn't outright asked anything, and Keith could only feel relief.

He wondered, after the fourth time of crossing his arms and not knowing whether to go above or below his breasts, if Lance felt like this all the time. Was he used to them, and didn't care? Or was it just as uncomfortable for him as it was for Keith, to have to manage with parts you didn't want and weren't okay with. Well, okay, Keith was fine with them, but when they belonged to Lance. When he had to deal with them, it was a different story.

"Ugh!" He growled, after yet again brushing up against them, by now so sensitive from constant attention that they stung with every touch. "I hate these stupid-!"

"Dude, chill." Hunk said distractedly. The mechanical-whatever he was hovered over buzzed under his attention, and shot off a spark of electricity onto his fingers. Good.

"Don't tell me to chill! I feel like this is the one time I'm allowed to be as unchill as I want!"

"Okay, well, firstly, if you're gonna get snappy, do it somewhere I'm not handling sensitive material," Hunk pouted, giving Keith a look that was at once both admonishing and apologetic - somehow. "Secondly, imagine if Lance walked in and heard you talking about his body like that."

"He'd know I didn't mean it like that, because he's a grown man! I'm just, so tired of navigating these... these fat little blobs on my chest. They hurt!"

"Aren't you the one constantly telling Lance to stop complaining about that kind of thing?"

"That's different," Keith huffed. Hunk shot him a look, and he crossed his arms - under this time, "It is. He should be used to it by now. I'm not."

"Mhm." Hunk gave him another look, then went back to working, leaving Keith even more frustrated than before.

Surely Lance wasn't having these problems.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This body was nice, in a lot of obvious ways. It had all the parts he'd always wanted, but none of what he loved about himself. It was too pale. Too broad. Too Keith. 
> 
> \---
> 
> Did you wonder how Lance was fairing?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lmao. hey. this isn't beta'd because I'm posting it impulsively. 
> 
> I'm sorry for the long wait, I don't really have an excuse that isn't horrible self discipline and equally bad mental health. I know this chapter isn't nearly as long as chapter 1 was (it's actually so short lmao), but I don't know when I'll next have the opportunity or the ability to keep going on this, so I figured I'd give you guys what I have so far. Lemme know how u feel about it lol

Lance stood in front of his bathroom mirror, taking in the unfamiliar features that he wore. The long, dark hair, the pale skin, the oddly purple eyes that belonged to their Red Paladin. It was like he was staring through a window, at a Keith who copied everything he did. Down to the last detail. He blinked, and so did Keith. He raised a hand to touch his bare, flat, pale, scarred chest, and it was Keith's fingers he saw, trailing up and down his sternum - reverent, but uncomfortable.  

 

He watched those fingers edge along the lines of muscle on Keith's torso. First, down the stark line of his stomach, easing from his chest down to his navel, partially hidden by soft, lightly dusted dark hair. Not as dense as Hunk or Pidge had, but certainly more than Lance could grow himself, even now. Then they moved over the lines of his abs, what little of the ‘V’ of his hip was visible while Lance still wore Keith's underwear, and back up to brush over the dark, slightly hairy nipples on his chest.

 

He turned sideways to see just how flat the chest was, and gosh, there was that knot in his throat. The one he'd woken up from the healing pod with. The one that showed up every time he had to accommodate the weight between his legs, or touched his chest and didn't hurt. Lance had to close his eyes and turn away from the mirror completely.

 

Don't get used to this, he reminded himself, that's not you.

 

It wasn't him. Lance had dark skin, and blue eyes. He had long, slender arms and toned legs. He had dark brown hair, and sharper, more aristocratic features. He had a curvy chest and a cavern between his legs - however much he may have wished he didn't.

 

This body was nice, in a lot of obvious ways. It had all the parts he'd always wanted, but none of what he loved about himself. It was too pale. Too broad. Too Keith.

 

Lance sighed, and reached into the shower to turn off the water, halting the steady flow of steam from the tile floor. He wrapped a towel around his waist, then grabbed another to run carefully through his long hair. It’d gotten softer since he’d become its owner, and at this same time, his hair in Keith’s hands had become a little rougher.

  


In fact, everything about his body had. The nails he kept so meticulously clipped were beginning to grow out and chip, the cuticles around them bloody with nervous biting and neglect. His hair was always uncombed now, and Lance noticed the ends were starting to split from how harshly Keith towel-dried it. His skin was also dry, his lips chapped, his eyebrows unkempt, his clothes grungy-

 

Lance knew Keith was trying, but Keith had never been one to maintain himself to the standards Lance did, and certainly not while dealing with what anyone could only call crushing dysphoria.

 

He almost laughed as he pulled on Keith’s underwear and jeans. He’d thought that maybe now that he had all the right equipment, he’d be spared his own dysphoria, but how wrong he’d been. How was it that Lance could exist exactly how he’d always wanted, strong and cis and so sure of himself, but still feel like he was built all wrong? It seemed like some sort of grand, cosmic joke.

  


* * *

  


“What do I do when we shower? Like, what am I allowed to - y’know?”

 

“All of it. Any of it. You got free reign, Keith, just keep my shit washed.”

 

“Are you gonna clean me?”

 

“I’m not gonna walk around smelling like dick sweat, Keith, like, duh, I washed it.”

 

“Oh, okay. What do I do if I get your period?”

 

“There are alien tampons under my sink. Good luck.”

 

“I don’t know how to use those.”

 

“It’s not exactly rocket science, Keith.”

 

“Well vaginas don’t exactly come with manuals, Lance! I don’t know what I’m doing!”

 

Lance stopped walking, and looked behind him at Keith, who’d been stomping after him with question after question, like a confused little dog whining after its owner, begging for some kind of scraps. Lance’s responses had been as succinct as he could get them. He didn’t like being around the other while they were like this. He didn’t like seeing his own face with Keith’s expressions, or being around his body when he could see every single thing wrong with it. He’d rather they just avoid each other until this whole mess was done with.

 

Keith had other ideas, it seemed.

 

“Look,” Lance began, impatiently, “I don’t exactly know what I’m doing either, Keith, I’ve never had a dick before. Yet here I am, figuring it out just fine on my own. You can’t do that? You have to follow after me like this, asking these - questions?”

 

“Yes! It’s different for me Lance, I didn’t want this!”

 

“Are you kidding?” Lance took a step closer, and wished so badly he was in his own body, that he could use his extra three inches to tower over this infuriating boy. “I didn’t want this either! Why would I?”

 

Keith got right back in his face, three inches higher, intimidating despite Lance’s delicate face. “Please. Don’t act like you’re not loving this.” His eyes flickered down to Lance’s jeans. Lane felt like throwing up.

 

“You’re such an ass sometimes, Keith.” His voice broke, which was strange, because he’d never heard Keith’s voice crack like that, especially echoing around in his own skull, and it was probably something Keith heard only rarely as well, for the abrupt surprise on his face. Lance’s face.

 

Lance turned around to leave, probably to go hide in his room until he felt like he could breathe again, but Keith didn’t let him. Lance was stronger in this body, but he was too surprised to pull away, and Keith grabbed his wrist and turned him around easily.

 

“I’m sorry,” was what he said. “I don’t know why I said that.”

 

“Right,” Lance snorted.

 

“Okay, maybe I do. I’m… frustrated. This is really scary for me, Lance.”

 

“Like it isn’t scary for me, too? Are you kidding?”

 

Keith made a frustrated sound, finally letting go of Lance’s wrist so he could bring his hands to Lance’s chest, where there was only a thin shirt and sports bra to separate them from Lance’s chest. Lance flinched, but Keith ignored it.

 

“You know it’s different for me,” Keith said, desperately, almost, “I’ve always been what I am, or known what, or - I don’t know. I’ve always been what people thought I was, and I never had to think that - I never had to be anything else or feel like anything else, and it’s hard. You know it is. You’ve been dealing with it your whole life, I’ve only been here for three days, I don’t know what to do. You keep avoiding me. You barely look at me. Pidge isn’t - she can only tell me so much, Lance. She doesn’t know. I need some fucking help!”

 

Keith grabbed Lance by the shoulders, shook him lightly, couldn’t meet his eyes, but his voice carried everything he couldn’t say, and everything he did. He was terrified, and not in the way Lance was as Keith. In the way Lance was as Lance.

 

Keith went on, quieter now. Lance didn’t think he’d ever heard him say so much at once.

 

“What do I do when I can’t move my arms because if I do, I’ll scratch myself out of my skin? How do I deal with feeling too wet all the time? Or too dry? Why does my chest ache so much? Why does it feel like I’m having a heart attack every hour? Why is my back so sore, Lance? What the fuck is going on with me, and what am I supposed to do? I can’t get my thoughts to stop, and all they do is-”

 

He stopped, his breath shuddered, and with a sick jolt, Lance could see his own face crying. God, he didn’t want to. He hated the look of it.

 

“Okay.” Lance took a deep breath. He reached up, and grabbed Keith’s hands off of it shoulders, but kept their fingers locked. “Okay, Keith. It’s fine. Hang on, okay? It’s fine. You’re okay.” Touching him felt strange, too warm on his hands, but he ignored it. “Take a deep breath for me. Count to five, then breathe out.”

 

Keith did. Then he did it again, when Lance told him to. Again and again until he didn’t look like he was about to faint.

 

“Good job,” Lance mumbled. “Sorry. I also have frequent panic attacks. Guess you got those, too.”

 

“Guess so,” Keith croaked.

 

After that, they were silent for a while. Lance didn’t let go of Keith’s hands. It was odd, he had to admit it. Feeling with Keith’s hands was already strange, because they were calloused where Lance’s weren’t, were sensitive in different places. Feeling his own hands with Keith’s was a wonder, because this is how he felt to Keith. This is how it felt to hold Lance’s hand. He was so caught up in the marvel of it that he missed the way Keith was looking at him. Like maybe Keith was thinking the same thing.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im on tumblr @lancesexual and im usually there crying. comments and kudos are appreciated!

**Author's Note:**

> find my ass on tumblr @lancesexual y'all


End file.
